


The Will of the Night Mother

by Secreteria



Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:13:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24373330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Secreteria/pseuds/Secreteria
Summary: A former Thieves' Guild member is recruited into the Dark Brotherhood, months after the new Listener was named. As Lucius advances in rank, he learns of the secrets shared between the Listener and the late Lucien Lachance, whom he bears an uncanny resemblance to. Soon he must make a choice, as does his Listener: though who can say if this isn't already part of the Night Mother's loving and cruel will?
Relationships: Listener/Silencer (Elder Scrolls), Lucien Lachance/Female Listener, Lucien Lachance/Original Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	The Will of the Night Mother

**Author's Note:**

> This story first began as Ensanguined Nights on Fanfiction. I dug this out of my archives some 8 years later, and decided it's time to finish this twisted tale here on AO3. It all begins with that one murderer in the Cheydinhal Sanctuary who looks like Lucien...
> 
> Disclaimer: Bethesda owns Oblivion.

* * *

_No shout of any sort will reach  
The merciless gods above the sky.  
Lacrimosa..._

_  
_ Lacrimosa, Kalafina (translated)

* * *

Lucius was running for his dear life.

He could hear the guards hollering behind him, but he didn’t stop to look. He didn’t want to know just how many soldiers of the Imperial Legion were chasing him. _But it had been an accident!_ His helpless mind screamed at him. Lucius knew it wouldn’t make a difference. Accident or no, he would still be jailed.

It was nearing midnight. Lucius had waited for this hour – the bridge between the end and beginning of a day – so often the knowledge was ingrained in his head. If he thought it was 12, it was. Nimbly he drew a summoning scroll and muttered the words written on it. Trust Ontus Vanin to keep such scrolls at hand. Lucius had nicked it just before the guards had come bursting into the room. Using what little misdirection skills in his time with the Thieves’ Guild, Lucius had snuck past them and fled. Sadly, the guards were efficient.

The summoned daedra lord would keep them busy for a while, though.

Having lost most of them, Lucius ducked under a bush and hauled himself over the wall, to where Armand Christophe waited, torch in hand. He was panting as he approached the man. Armand glared at him. Lucius shrunk away.

“You killed someone on the job, Lucius.”

“It was an accident,” he found himself blubbering.

Armand raised an eyebrow. He sighed. “I can believe that, Lucius, but… rules are rules. You’re out.”

“I _what?”_ It took several moments for the truth to sink in. Lucius’ jaw dropped. “It was an accident! I swear! Where… where will I go? C’mon, give me a chance. Please?”

The Doyen shook his head firmly, but looked at him with eyes of pity. “Look, pickpocket – I can help you get rid of that bounty on your head. That’s all I’ll do for you. If you wish to rejoin the guild, pay the blood price for having slain Ontus. If you don’t, you’ll have to find a way to survive.”

The rogue thief just stared at Armand openly. The Doyen wasn’t dumb; he bloody well knew that Lucius didn’t have the gold to pay the blood price for murder. Finally, as though deciding that arguing wouldn’t help, Lucius tightened his grip on his ebony dagger and stalked away.

All his life, he’d lived in the Thieves’ Guild. He’d been given to the guild by one of its members, apparently. He never did find out his mother’s name, only that she was once a guild member. Or perhaps she still was, and simply didn’t want anything to do with him. Lucius had been raised in the ways of a thief. He’d served the Gray Fox ever since he could walk. In turn, the guild had looked after him. They’d given him a home, and money.

And now he was out.

All because of a stupid accident.

Who would’ve thought that the silver pot he’d accidentally dropped while rushing down the stairs would strike Ontus squarely on the head?

Lucius certainly hadn’t. When he’d heard the shout he’d jumped, and the pot had slipped from his hand. It had bounced down several steps and sailed through the air, slapping Ontus hard in the temple. He’d died on the spot from internal bleeding, it seemed. Or maybe the pot had just happened to burst his artery. In any case, the guards were on him in a second. It was only by sheer luck, Lucius felt, that he’d managed to nick the summoning scroll and slip through the soldiers.

But it had all been for naught.

He was homeless now. First he was parentless, but now homeless too? Life sucked, didn’t it?

Lucius knew Armand would make good on his promise to pay off his bounty, though. At least he wasn’t a marked man. The thief walked to an ancient Ayleid ruin. Spotting an empty, abandoned camp, he miserably tucked himself into the bedroll and quickly fell asleep.

He was abruptly awakened.

“You sleep rather soundly for a murderer.”

It was a woman’s voice. “Wha –?” Lucius mumbled, getting up and rubbing his eyes. He blinked at the sight of the woman towering over him. Imperials weren’t short, but their height was nothing compared to the Altmer. The High Elf before him was clad in all black and hooded. No matter how much he squinted, he couldn’t make out her features, only that her voice sounded sickly sweet. Something she said sank in. “Wait. Murderer?”

“The Night Mother has been watching, and she is most pleased,” the Altmer continued, unfazed by Lucius’ growing panic, “at her request, I have come to extend a most unique invitation to you –“

“Hold your horses, lady. I’ve no idea who you serve, but I’m no murderer,” Lucius muttered, backing away and drawing his sword.

The High Elf remained unperturbed. “ – to join our family,” she finished. “However, since you are clearly on the verge of rejection, allow me to remind you that you have been kicked out of the only place you’ve ever called home. The Dark Brotherhood can offer you that, and much more. We offer you a place in our family, and in exchange, you shed blood for our Dread Father.”

“I don’t care what I’m getting _; I’m no murderer_!” Lucius repeated shakily.

“Fine. You have the potential to be one, then,” she lazily replied.

“How can you say that just… like that?” He shook his head, impressed, though he didn’t admit it, “taking lives, it’s… wrong.”

She tilted her head at him. He caught a glimpse of startlingly blue eyes under the hood. “The Thieves’ Guild has taught you well, I see. Our Listener mentioned that fact. She also mentioned that I should not force you to join us. We are in dire need of members, however, and so I disagree with her.”

Lucius didn’t have time to react. In a split second, the Altmer had a blade to his throat, and from the looks of its evil reddish glow, it was enchanted. “The choice is simple,” she said calmly. “It is a choice between life” – she extended her free hand towards him – “and death.” She nodded at the blade.

The thief gaped at her. He could draw his dagger, but given the speed at which she’d moved earlier he doubted he’d be alive long enough to do that. He thought about Ontus. The man had died – and Lucius hadn’t felt any guilt, or sorrow, at his death. Maybe he did have the potential. “Is that what I have to do? Kill? And I’ll have a home? Food? Money?”

“More than that,” the elf promised, “you will have a family. That I can guarantee.”

“A family? With parents?” He questioned in disbelief.

“Foster parents, if you will,” she answered, tight-lipped, “there are people in charge of the family. You can trust them – and me – with your life.”

There was nothing left for Lucius if he rejected her offer. Maybe, if he pleaded with her enough, she would let him off with his life, but what then? He had nowhere to go. No guildmaster to serve. That this offer had come by… “Are you my salvation or damnation?” He wondered aloud.

“It is your choice.” He could hear the smirk in her voice.

“Then I choose life,” he said quietly, grabbing the Altmer’s hand. He could’ve sworn she smiled.

“Excellent. We head to Cheydinhal immediately. I am Arquen, the Speaker who oversees the Cheydinhal sanctuary.”

She hauled him onto the black stallion before mounting it herself. The thief closed his eyes, drew a deep breath, and opened them. His life as a thief was over. It was over the moment Ontus died and he had no money to pay the blood price.

 _I am a murderer. I killed Ontus Vanin._ “Lucius.”

Then they rode.


End file.
